


You're Not A Lady

by Foxtrot909



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 21:18:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18747301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxtrot909/pseuds/Foxtrot909
Summary: Okay after pulling myself out of the pit of despair and anger I spent the last 36 hours in, I managed to fix that 8x04 scene. Gendry knows Arya better than that. In my version, he's not nearly as stupid as they're making him out to be, and Arya is not nearly as ready to die.





	You're Not A Lady

The feast was quieter than he would have expected. The strain of the Long Night, and the grief of burning the dead put a bit of a damper on the celebrations. Gendry twisted in his seat, scanning the room for the only face he wanted to see. She had been with her family since the dead had fallen, he didn’t want to intrude. But she should be at the feast. She was the hero of Winterfell, after all. He turned back to face the table, taking a drink of his wine. 

“Have you seen Arya?” He said, as casually as he could.

“You can still smell the burning bodies and that’s where your head is at?” The Hound responded, and Gendry could almost see a little amusement behind his angry eyes.

“I just want to thank her,” he explained.

“I’m sure you do.”

“Look it’s not about that —“

“Of course it’s about that, you twat. Why shouldn’t it be? The dead are dead. You’re not,” and now Gendry was sure it was amusement he was seeing.

He pushed back from the table and stood, walking quickly towards the exit at the front of the hall. As he turned and walked along the head table, he heard the queen’s voice call his name.

“Gendry,” she said, and the quiet hall got quieter. “That’s right, isn’t it? Are you not enjoying the feast? Where are you hurrying off to?”

“I —“ He paused, his eyes flitting to the three Starks sitting to the left of the queen. “I was going to go find Arya,” he said, avoiding Jon’s gaze.

“You’re Robert Baratheon’s son. His bastard.”

Gendry had been worried about the queen finding out this piece of information. He knew that fact would make him appear to be a threat to her, but she often made rash decisions when she felt threatened. He closed his eyes, nodding his head in resignation. 

“And what business does a bastard have with a lady of Winterfell?” The queen said, her voice icy.

“Arya isn’t a lady, your grace,” he said before he could stop himself. Contradicting the queen when she already seemed primed for an argument probably wasn’t a good idea.

“She is the daughter of a lord. I did not grow up here, but I was under the impression that that made her a lady.”

“Pardon, your grace, I don’t wish to offend you, but you don’t know her.”

“And you do?” It was Jon who spoke this time, and Gendry finally looked at him. His face was a mixture of confusion and distrust. 

“Aye. We fled King’s Landing together years ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when we met?” Jon said, the distrust on his face morphing into anger.

“Because I thought she was dead. When I was taken by the red woman, the brotherhood was planning to take Arya to the Twins to ransom her back to the late King Robb and his lady mother. Until she walked into the forge and asked me to make her a weapon a few days ago, I thought she had died at the Red Wedding,” Gendry tried to keep his voice steady through the explanation, and he did his very best to impress upon Jon the truth of his words. “I just wanted to make sure she got something to eat tonight,” he finished quietly. Jon’s face softened and Gendry turned his attention back to the queen.

“You are aware your father took my family’s throne and tried to have me murdered?” The queen continued, going back to her original line of questioning.

“I didn’t even know he was my father until after he was dead,” Gendry said as calmly as he could, though he was panicking inside.

“Yes. He’s dead. His brothers are too. So who is lord of Storm’s End now?” 

“I don’t know, your grace.”

“Does anyone?” The queen’s question was met with silence throughout the hall. “I think you should be lord of Storm’s End.”

“I can’t be I’m a bastard,” Gendry said quickly, shaking his head, dread filling every part of his body. 

“No, you are lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm’s End, the lawful son of Robert Baratheon, because that is what I have made you,” the queen said with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

This pronouncement was met with further silence, before Davos pushed away from his seat and stood, raising his cup, “To Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm’s End.”

The rest of the hall stood and cheered with Davos, and Jon, smiling, held his cup out to Gendry to take. He did and turned towards the cheering men and women, raising the cup with them, though he didn’t feel much like celebrating. Arya wasn’t a lady, and she had never wanted a lord. 

Gendry excused himself quickly, still intent on finding Arya. The courtyard was filled with the sounds of drunken celebrating. He ducked off into a well lit passage that led to some part of the castle he had never been before, but he didn’t know where else to start. He had taken only a few steps when an arrow flew past his face and hit a barrel with a target in it. He jerked back and raised his hands, looking down the passage from which the arrow had come. 

“Don’t shoot,” he said with a smile, finally laying eyes on Arya. She smirked at him and knocked another arrow as he moved towards her and out of the way of her target. “It’s nighttime, it’s freezing, and everyone’s celebrating. You should be celebrating with them.”

“I am celebrating,” she said as the arrow found her target again. 

He sat on a barrel behind her, watching her practice in silence for a few minutes. She didn’t seem to mind the quiet company, and she smiled at him a couple times, the soft smile she only ever really gave him. He had a hard time returning it.

“Is something bothering you, Gendry?” She asked after a while, wondering what could have her good spirited friend so down on a night of celebration.

He didn’t answer until she had loosed another two arrows. “The queen has named me Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm’s End,” he said, looking at the ground by her feet. 

“Congratulations,” Arya said, and he looked up at her face to find her smiling warmly at him. He had not been expecting that to be her reaction, and he didn’t know how to take it. He stood up and walked toward her, grasping her free hand in his.

“I came looking for you tonight because I wanted to ask you to marry me. I know I’m a bastard but that never seemed to bother you, and I spent years without you, thinking of how you wanted to be my family. Regretting telling you no. It was the biggest mistake of my life. You’re beautiful, Arya, and I love you. And nothing in my life is worth anything if you’re not with me,” he finished. 

Arya was still smiling, her eyes wide and bright at his declaration. She set her bow down and grasped his face between her hands, pulling him into a soft kiss. She broke away quickly, and he pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes still closed. “I love you too, Gendry. I always have.” She whispered.

“But you don’t want to marry a lord. You’re not a lady,” he said, unable to keep the misery out of his voice as he felt tears well up behind his closed eyes.

“And you understand that, Gendry. That matters far more to me than whatever name the dragon queen wants to call you,” Arya said, pushing Gendry away slightly so that he would open his eyes and look at her.

He couldn’t quite believe what she had said, searching her eyes for something he was missing. All he found was sincerity. He swallowed hard, and kneeled, grasping her hand in his again. “I love you Arya. You’re the only family I’ve ever had. Will you marry me?”

“Yes. If we live through the last war, I’ll marry you. And if you want to go to Storm’s End, I’ll go with you. I won’t be a lady, but I’ll be yours and you’ll be mine. And if you want to turn away from your new title, then we can come back here and you can work in the forge and we can be together. Or we can leave Westeros, travel together, like we used to and find our own way in the world. I know you will never try to make me into something I’m not, Gendry, and I will do the same for you,” Arya finished, pulling Gendry to his feet. 

He slipped one hand around her waist, and the other behind her neck to pull her into a passionate kiss, backing her up slowly until she was between him and the wall. Her arms slipped around his neck, he felt her tongue press against his lips, and he opened his mouth to her. Their tongues wrestled for dominance, but Gendry backed down quickly, letting Arya lead the kiss where she wanted. After a few minutes, she broke away. She gathered her arrows and her bow, before taking Gendry’s hand and leading him back to her room. There was no guarantee of a future for them, but if they could survive the last war, there was a future on the other side, a future full of love, and adventure, and family. And they would both fight for that future.


End file.
